


The Dino Dee-Lite Motel (Reprise)

by Rambert



Series: The radicalization of Craig Boone [6]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Aww, Cussing, Electricity, Gay, Hugs, Independent New Vegas (Fallout), M/M, Mojave Wasteland (Fallout), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Novac (Fallout), POV First Person, Radio, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Technology, Tenderness, Trans, Wartime Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rambert/pseuds/Rambert
Summary: Casey makes a breakthrough at last that connects the hotel to the Novac power grid, and gets a big surprise.
Relationships: Craig Boone/Courier (Fallout), Craig Boone/Non-Binary Courier
Series: The radicalization of Craig Boone [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085471
Kudos: 3





	The Dino Dee-Lite Motel (Reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> two updates in one day!!1! what. is. happening. 
> 
> wanted this one to be short and sweet so I can just imagine this scene while listening to the song forever now... 
> 
> https://youtu.be/fHjZQb-kGek

I've started listening to the New Vegas radio at night before bed.

The rotation is _stale_ : only about forty-five minutes' worth of oldies that just repeat, and repeat, and repeat. Barely even any commercials to interrupt and even _those_ repeat. But it means I've started learning the songs even better than I did before, to the point where I'll hum or sing along with them as I sway around my room late at night.

No matter how tough my day is trying to problem solve with the power grid's multiple complex connectivity issues, I come back up to my room now and close my eyes, spinning around to jazz standards. Because all these love songs don't make me cry or want to die any more... now I can relate. Love _is_ a kick in the head, Dean Martin. It fucking is.

I know that I'm overreacting, probably. I know that Boone likely means all these nice things he's said just as a friendly sort of affection. But even so, having a new close friend is still the most intimacy I've had in years and my brain is overreacting on purpose while I can.

I'll dial down the soap opera when he comes back-- _when_ he comes back, not if-- but for now? In the delicious mystery of now, I dance to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, imagining _dancing cheek to cheek_ with Boone.

\--

My birthday's coming up real soon: December twenty-fourth, only a few days away. I'll be thirty-four.

It's actually cold enough now with the dry desert breezes that I have to bundle up in order to go work outside all day. Mrs. Gibson has given me her earmuffs and a scarf she made herself.

"You need them more than I do dearie, I can make more," she had insisted, not taking no for an answer; they really help.

The power grid is functioning at almost 100% now. Mrs. Gibson and a few others have already successfully hooked up to it with their old lines-- everyone is pitching in to volunteer a few hours here and there for demolition or repairs, now that I've finally done all the heavy lifting. It makes me so happy seeing this little community come together.

Today I've been working on the hotel again. It's day three of this building and I'm starting to get a little frustrated with the slowness of the repairs, but all I have to do is think of Boone's rigid handwriting spelling out _I miss you_ and a giddy grin plasters its way onto my face. I hum a snatch of some song while I work, feeling like I have purpose in life for the first time in a very long time.

And just before dark, right about when I'm getting ready to throw in the towel, I test the hotel's circuit breakers one more time and flinch back as the lines snap and pop-- the grid is connecting!

"Yes!" I crow, punching the air a few times. "Oh yeah, I did it! Who's getting a long hot shower tonight? _I'm_ getting a long hot shower tonight! Matter of fact we're _all_ getting long hot showers tonight!!"

\--

It feels _amazing._ I have to wait of course, because the repaired water heater still can't process us all showering at the same time-- but we quickly gather together as a town to develop a schedule sign-up sheet tonight once I've spread the good news. My time slot begins at 10:15. Fifteen minute increments per person, which seems stingy but is actually rather decadent in a place like Novac. We still have to take the Rad-X first of course, because the source of the water hasn't changed. But at least we'll have a better temperature and pressure range.

By the time I'm done showering at 10:30 and putting my pajamas on, I feel so clean that I wish I'd washed my sheets first-- I giggle, giddy that now I can get clean enough to notice stuff like this again. It really is the little victories out here in the Mojave.

Boone still isn't back though, so maybe I could just... borrow his bed's sheets for tonight. Our beds are both queens, and he won't miss them; I'll wash them all tomorrow and put them right back. I'm just so _tired_ tonight and I want to lay in a clean bed, and I find myself going into Boone's room in a way that's become far too familiar considering I'm still essentially breaking in.

But then as I'm in Boone's room looking around, I sigh wistfully, and for some reason my legs take me over to his chair and I sit instead of getting the sheets. The radio is right there on the table, and I turn it on... and after a minute of sitting, I get back up and start to sway around, murmuring along with the song that's come on-- it's Louis Armstrong again, crooning things I desperately wish to be true.

_When I'm alone with my fancies, I'll be with you.  
Weaving romances, making believe they're true._

"...Casey?"

I whirl around, shocked: Boone is standing in the doorway watching me.

 _He's back, he's back!_ my brain cries in joy.

"...H-hi Boone," I say, embarrassed and ecstatic all at once.

I notice that he's sporting a bit of a beard, and I wonder if he notices my scraggly scruff that's accumulated on my chin since we've seen each other last.

We both start moving towards each other while I'm still trying to explain myself.

"I was just-- going to borrow something and return it in the morning-- got the hotel grid working, you can really shower now, there's a sign-up sheet--"

And then I can't speak, because Boone is holding me so _tight;_ a soft whimper escapes me as I hold him back with just as much need. The big band music swells dramatically as we hug.

He doesn't say anything either, and his arms relax a little after a minute but don't drop. He smells like sweat and dirt, solid as a rock under my touch, and I want this moment to last forever.

"Welcome home," I whisper, and Boone's low chuckle rumbles against my shoulder-- my eyelids flutter from the feeling.

"Thanks," is all he says, making no move whatsoever to let me go.

Then he does something that I think I'm hallucinating, at first--

Boone begins to sway me gently back and forth, following the swinging beat of the music. The door to his room is still wide open, and he doesn't seem to care in the slightest. And as we slow dance I almost weep from being so happy... from getting exactly what I want at last.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Oh, give me your lips for just a moment and my imagination will make that moment live.  
>  Give me what you alone can give, a kiss to build a dream on._  
> \--"A Kiss to Build A Dream On," Louis Armstrong
> 
> (yes that's from fallout 2 what of it :p )


End file.
